


Among the Multitude

by Regann



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Multiple, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's growing feelings for Spock during their first year serving together might actually be the worst kept secret on the ship. </p>
<p>(or, 5 Crew members who were aware of Jim's feelings for Spock and 1 who wasn't, at least not until after Jim died and came back to life.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among the Multitude

(1. Bones)

While Jim Kirk tended to be a walking conundrum, Leonard had had more than enough exposure to be able to tell a thing or two about his friend and captain that others probably couldn't. They'd spent three years as best friends and classmates, three years that had seen a lot of late nights and a lot of drinking, sometimes at the same time. Leonard knew that Jim had shared things with him that he'd never with anyone else and he knew what it meant. The fact was, if there was anyone in the galaxy who knew the real Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy was probably it.

Having nursed Jim through a handful of broken hearts, bad ideas and downright self-destructive behavior, Leonard didn't need all his fancy degrees to know that his captain was _pining_.

For his cold, logical, unemotional green-blooded hobgoblin of a First Officer.

Leonard decided that Jim's current predicament hit the trifecta -- there'd be a broken heart, it was definitely a bad idea and “self-destructive” was a given when one was making eyes at a being who had already almost killed him and who had a girlfriend always looking for an opportunity to pick up where he'd left off.

Leonard was just waiting for the right time to fill Jim in on what he'd realized.

It would've been easier to talk about it if Jim had actually confided about it to his best friend but the newly minted captain had been pretty tight-lipped about it, at least in Leonard's presence. Jim had taken to doing more of his drinking with Mr. Scott in Engineering and the two of them got on like a house on fire. It wasn't that Leonard minded Jim having other friends because the kid needed them but it didn't change the fact that it was painful to watch Jim make eyes at the Vulcan and not be able to _say_ something about it.

Leonard kept hoping it would just stop, that whatever infatuation Jim had for Spock would fade away, but it didn't. Every time Leonard turned around he caught a glimpse of Jim's bright-eyed contemplation of his first officer -- a lingering look when Spock turned away, a distant gaze across the mess, a smile that made him look younger than his years and reminded Leonard that for all of his bravado, there was something intensely vulnerable beating in the heart of his friend. And that vulnerability was in every yearning, blue-eyed look he threw at a certain oblivious alien.

Leonard finally reached his boiling point the umpteenth time he caught Jim's wistful gaze straying to the table where Uhura and Spock sat eating their own meals.

"Oh, Jimmy," Leonard sighed as he sat down beside him, dropping his tray with a little more emphasis than necessary.

"Bones!" Jim said with a smile. "Hey! And what do you mean by _oh Jimmy_?"

Leonard pointedly did not let his own eyes wander over to Spock. "We need to talk, kid. Tonight."

"About?"

"Call it a spot psych eval," he said. "But with booze."

"Well if there's going to be _booze_ ," Jim drawled as he stood up, collecting his tray. "Who am I to say no?"

"Nobody!" Leonard called after the captain's retreating back. "It wasn't a request!"

Just as Leonard had ordered, Jim came down to his office in sickbay once his shift was over and, as soon as he saw that Leonard had already poured out several fingers of Saurian brandy for him, the doctor watched as wariness came over the captain's face.

"Bones?" he asked, settling down in the chair opposite the desk. "Is something wrong?"

"You tell me, kid," Bones said, tipping back his glass of brandy. "Or did you think I was just going to ignore the fact that you've got a major thing for Spock?"

Jim actually paled, blue eyes wide and pained. "Bones..."

"He's your first officer, Jim."

"I know."

"He has a girlfriend!"

"I know!"

"This has got to be the worst idea you've ever had in your entire life and that is saying something!"

"Damn it, Bones, don't you think I know that?" Jim snapped, letting his head fall into the shelter of his hands. "Do you think I wanted to have this _thing_ for Spock? Hell no, I didn't, for all the reasons you mentioned and more."

"Like the fact he tried to kill you?" Bones asked.

"Among other things," Jim said. He sighed. "I...just wanted to be the guy's friend, you know? Yeah, we got off on the wrong foot but that's not so unusual with me. We worked well together when we weren't trying to kill each other and I know from the other Spock that he and his Jim Kirk were great friends. I wanted that."

Leonard felt a pang of guilt for bringing that sorrowful look to his friend's face. If he knew anything about Jim Kirk, he knew that the kid had had too much sorrow in his life. "I'm not saying that was a bad thing to want."

Jim scrubbed a hand through his hair, turning it into messy spikes. "But then I went and screwed it up, right?"

"I wasn't thinking that," his friend promised. "I was just thinking that you got rotten luck and timing."

"Don't I know it?" he said with a self-deprecating smile. "If it wasn't for this captain thing I've got going, I'd be really pathetic."

"Don't sell yourself too short," Leonard said. "You've got your looks, too."

Jim actually laughed at that. "Not to mention my charm and wit."

"Now you're just fishing for compliments," Leonard groused. He watched as the flash of amusement faded from Jim's face. "What are you doing to do?"

Jim thought for a moment, mouth frowning. He ran his finger along the edge of his glass of brandy, even though he hadn't taken a drink yet. "Continue to focus on being a damn good captain," he finally said. "And pray to God that my good sense makes an appearance before I ruin two working relationships that I've just gotten under control."

"Your good sense has been missing since I met you."

"High time it shows up, then, huh?" Jim caught Leonard's eyes as he leaned back in his seat, arms spread wide. "And, come on, this is me we’re talking about. My interest doesn't really last that long. I'm sure it'll pass and then we'll laugh about this."

"I hope so, Jimmy," Leonard said. He couldn't stop himself from laying a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

Leonard did hope for that, hoped with all the hope he had in him but he knew there was something different in the way that Jim looked at Spock than he had ever seen in him before, some depth of longing that looked like it might've settled in for the long haul. And it didn't fade, not in the days and weeks after that conversation; it was always there, behind the smiles and glances that Leonard still caught Jim sending Spock's way. It wasn't Jim's usual way -- it was quiet and steady, like a heartbeat.

And that, more than anything, scared the hell out of Leonard McCoy because he wasn't sure he wanted to be the one who'd have to put the pieces of Jim Kirk back together when it finally broke him apart.

**

(2. Scotty)

Scotty would've liked Jim Kirk if the only thing he'd ever done for him was get him out of that station on that icy rock, but the fact that Jim had went on to make him his Chief Engineer on a beautiful ship like the Enterprise meant that Scotty considered himself pretty fond of the boy. It helped, too, that Jim Kirk was a nice guy as far as he could tell -- he was smart and funny and gregarious, knew how to let loose or buckle down as the occasion called for it. He was a bit young to be running the show, but Scotty had never thought age necessarily equaled wisdom.

He knew that there were others on the ship who didn't share his high opinion of the captain, especially when they first started up, but Scotty also wasn't the kind to let another man make up his mind for him. So it didn't matter to him if Lieutenant Uhura tended to give the captain the stink-eye when he wasn't looking or that Commander Spock always looked faintly horrified by whatever came out of Captain Kirk's mouth -- Scotty counted Jim as both a good friend and a good captain.

The Captain seemed to like Scotty in return, so much so that Scotty noticed pretty early that Engineering had become an escape of sorts for Kirk. Whenever he’d been having a rough go of it and he wasn't under the tender mercies of the ship's CMO, Scotty would turn around and find Kirk wading through his army of technicians, looking for something to keep himself busy with. And since the captain wasn't exactly a slouch when it came to creative thinking and ingenuity, Scotty didn't mind sliding over a PADD or handing him a wrench and letting him get his hands dirty. As far as stress relief went on a ship like the Enterprise, it was probably the most harmless sort to be found.

So given their camaraderie, it didn't seem strange that when the next shore leave came up, that Scotty threw an arm around his captain's neck and dragged the boy off for a drink at the best bar that the starbase had to offer. If there was anything Scotty knew, it was which bar was the best on which starbase and it was the kind of knowledge that he thought ought to be shared. And the captain might've protested a little but he was clearly in need of relaxation and rest, just like the rest of his crew.

Dressed in civilian clothing, Jim looked even younger than his already young years but Scotty wasn't going to hold it against him, even if he did feel a bit like the uncle who'd dragged his nephew out for his birthday. They found themselves seats at the bar and were waited upon quickly by the bonny, purple-haired bartender who gave a purple-lashed eye flutter at Kirk that left little to the imagination. Scotty noticed that Kirk, however, didn't even seem to notice.

"You alright there, Captain?" Scotty murmured as he started in on his drink.

Kirk shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink. "Me? I'm fine. You?"

"Oh, fine as well," he said. "Looking for a bit of fun tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," Kirk said, as if it were the last thing on his mind. "Aren't I always?"

As the night went on, the booze did take some of the tension out of the man, even if he continued to ignore all the overt offers of company that came his way. Scotty didn't think a man had to do anything he didn't want and he wasn't one to pay mind to idle gossip (even though it was often the best entertainment to be had on a starship) but it seemed a bit out of character of the captain to pass his night staring moodily into the bottom of his latest pint. With a wave to young lady he'd been chatting with, Scotty headed back to Kirk's side.

"You sure you're fine there?" he asked. "Because you're looking a bit less fine to me."

"I'm good, Mr. Scott," Kirk assured him. "Thanks for checking."

The captain, Scotty realized, was a very bad liar once he had some alcohol in him. Instead of heading back off to find a new conversational partner, Scotty took the empty stool beside Kirk and ordered himself another drink. He let the silence hang between them, wondering what he needed to do to get his friend to get whatever was bothering him off his chest. The answer, he learned an hour later, was several more drinks -- for both of them.

"What's got you down, Jimbo?" Scotty asked, a certain slur to his words. "No need to play the stoic captain, tonight! Tell your old friend Scotty what's eatin' you, yeah?"

"Oh, just the usual," Kirk mumbled into his glass, cocky grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I'm an idiot."

"That's a rather vague statement there," Scotty said. "I'm hope you're plannin' to clarify, as our Mr. Spock might say."

Kirk snorted, the beginnings of the grin dripping from his face. "I'm an idiot, Scotty," he said again. "Because only idiots get their lifelong dream handed to them and then spend all of their time moping about the stupid shit they can't have."

"Ah." Scotty might've been drunk but he could still reason enough to put the pieces together. "Sounds like you've got some heart trouble?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Unfortunately it's not the kind Bones can fix up in sickbay."

"At least this kind's not fatal," Scotty joked -- or tried to. Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones.

"Somedays I'm not so sure," Kirk mused. "Some days, I think he flipped a switch in my head that's never gonna flip back and it's just going to be there forever and I'm never going to be able to stop it."

"Jim." Scotty laid a hand on the captain's shoulder. "It cannot be as bad as that."

Jim didn't say anything more, just shot him a bleak look over the rim of his glass before he ordered another shot.

Once they were back on the ship, that starbase long behind them, Scotty couldn't help but remember how sad the young captain had been and wondering who in the world could be so off-limits that the man seemed content to languish away wanting. It seemed too immediate a heartache for the answer to be on Earth or any other faraway planet; Scotty had a feeling that the answer was right there with them on the Enterprise.

He tried to pay attention but he spent too much time in the bowels of the ship to see much of Kirk's daily interactions. But then came another late night when the captain came to him, looking to bury his troubles in a malfunctioning console that Scotty was working to repair. "What's got your command panties in a twist tonight?" he asked with a laugh as he watched the captain dive into the repair work with relish.

"Oh, the usual," he huffed, voice muffled. "I think my first officer is ready to launch me out to another icy planet is all. But I don't think this one will have someone as awesome as you waiting on it."

"Thanks for that," he said, shivering a little as he thought of that lonely station. He eyed the captain's legs sticking out from beneath the panel. "It seems like this is beginning to be a thing."

"What is?"

"You, fighting with Spock and running down here to do my job for me."

Kirk pulled himself out of the console to look up at Scotty. "We don't fight that much."

"No," he agreed. "But every time you do, you come down here to lick your wounds. I might've missed the signs of your heart trouble, but I haven't missed the signs of that."

Kirk sat up, leaning back against the next panel over. "Does it bother you?"

"Not at all," he said. "As long as you aren't messing about with the warp drive, I don't mind the extra help." He gave Kirk an affectionate slap on the shoulder. "Feel free to come down here any time you like."

"Thanks, Scotty," he said. He paused, looking down at his hands. "And you haven't missed it."

"Missed what?"

"The heart trouble," he said. "When it comes to the first officer trouble...they're pretty much one in the same."

Before Scotty could properly react, Kirk was back under the console, disappearing in a tangle of tubes and wires.

Scotty sank down to sit next to him. "Oh, Jim," he said, probably too low for the captain to hear. "So it _is_ as bad as that."

**

(3. Sulu)

Sulu was never a fan of sickbay but after the days he'd had on the planet they'd just returned from, he wasn't going to complain if he was stuck in McCoy's domain for a while. The Captain had had a bad feeling about the mission before they'd even beamed down but they'd went anyway, in search of small band of colonists with whom contact had been lost. The glitter of the transport had barely faded before everything had gone to hell.

Sulu sighed, leaning back against his biobed, trying to find a comfortable position in which to rest. He'd taken an _arrow_ to the shoulder which hadn't caused too much damage but hurt like a bitch, especially when he was trying to find a way to rest that didn't make him groan in pain. The sickbay was finally quiet; there was only one other overnight visitor other than Sulu and he was still and quiet, a pale unmoving shadow laid out on his bed.

Despite the disaster they had found, the Captain had saved the day, dealing with the local populations who had taken the colonists hostage and who had attacked the away party as soon as they had materialized on their land. Sulu thought there had been something about a sacred forest in their complaints, but he'd been too dazed with pain to care.

What did he remember was that the Captain had almost gotten an arrow of his own -- three in fact -- until Spock had pushed him out of the way, taking them all himself. After that, the diplomat that Kirk had tried to be had disappeared and out had come the brawler Sulu knew Jim Kirk had been before his academy days -- at least according to scuttlebutt. Luckily, the natives were warriors who respected a good head bashing and Kirk's prowess had impressed them. Sulu almost smiled thinking of it, which was more than any of them had been able to do while on the planet, not when Kirk's hard gaze had kept sweeping back to the green blood trickling from Spock's chest of arrows.

The colonists had been saved and taken back to the Enterprise for transport to the closest Starbase, while Sulu and Spock had been rushed into the care of Dr. McCoy, who had been yelling and cursing even before he saw them. He'd cursed and yelled a little more, too, once he'd seen Spock.

"Did they mistake his uniform for a damn bull's-eye?" McCoy had ground out, even as he reaching for his tricorder.

"Just fix him, Bones," the Captain had said, covered with green blood himself from where he'd administered aid. "Okay?"

After that, Sulu had faded out as his wounds had been attended by one of McCoy's doctors, only for McCoy to come check behind him, offering Sulu a quick smile and a list of rapid-fire questions. Then he'd been nice enough to give him a mild sedative and a shot of pain relief, which left Sulu floaty and peaceful even as visitors had come and gone. Pavel had stopped by to check on him, all ashen-faced, while he'd noticed Uhura at Spock's bedside, talking in low tones to the injured Vulcan. McCoy had eventually shooed everyone out and lowered the lights.

Sulu was just starting to feel floaty again, no doubt thanks to a second wave of the sedative and pain medication McCoy had given him when he heard the quiet shush of the sickbay doors opening. He squinted against the dim lights to see who it was but it wasn't hard to recognize the gold hair or the gold tunic. Sulu had expected Kirk to head straight for McCoy's office, probably looking for an update but instead he watched as the Captain hovered in the middle of the room, eyes pointedly fixed on something in the opposite direction of Sulu. He could only guess his point of interest was Spock.

After a few moments, McCoy came out of his office, as if he'd finally noticed the Captain doing his impression of a statute in the middle of sickbay. "Jim," McCoy said quietly but still loud enough in the hushed room that Sulu could hear. They probably thought he was asleep. "I thought I told you to rest."

"I know, Bones," Kirk said, making a vague gesture. "I just needed -- you know."

McCoy sighed. "He's fine, Jim. I told you that. Lucky for him he doesn't actually have a heart."

"Bones!"

"...in his chest cavity," McCoy finished. "It's still beating fine in his side."

"So he's going to fine?"

"A complete recovery," McCoy promised. "I wish I could say the same for the Captain."

It was Kirk's turn to sigh. "I can't handle this conversation again, not today," he said, his voice wavering. Sulu was almost glad he couldn't see the expression that went with it. "He scared me."

"I figured that's why you were covered in his blood," McCoy grumbled. "I wouldn't lie to you, kid. He'll be on his feet in a day or two."

"That's great," Kirk said.

Sulu could make out that McCoy had crossed his arms, leaned back a little like he was studying the Captain. "There's nobody here but us and Sulu," he said after a moment. "And Sulu's asleep. If you wanted to go over and check on him."

"I..." Kirk broke off, looked away. "You sure it'll be okay?"

"I've got him pumped full of all the drugs his hybrid physiology can tolerate," McCoy said. "He should be asleep. And if he's not and he's got a problem with his Captain checking on his well-being, I'll tell him what he can do with his objections."

"Bones!" Kirk said again, shaking his head. Much quieter he added, "Thanks."

McCoy reached out and laid a hand on the Captain's shoulder. "I wish I knew how to make this better."

"Doctors can't do everything, not even you."

"I'll give you some privacy," the doctor said, already moving away. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

Sulu didn't make a move, despite the discomfort in his shoulder; he barely dared breathe as he watched his Captain step over to his first officer's side, only to stare down at the still face with the kind of level concentration that still surprised Sulu to see Kirk use. If he spoke, it wasn't loud enough for Sulu to hear. All he could do was watch in silence as Kirk risked a single touch to Spock's hand, two fingers brushing across skin of his knuckles before Kirk jerked his hand back like the touch had burned him. After that, the Captain strode toward the sickbay doors.

As Sulu caught the expression on the Captain's face in the full light of the hallway right before he disappeared into it, he had a sinking realization that he knew exactly what McCoy wanted to fix for his friend.

He was equally sure that Kirk was right: there were some things that just couldn't be fixed.

**

(4. Uhura)

The last time Uhura had felt as helpless as she did in that moment, she'd just watched a planet disappear before her very eyes. She'd felt almost as helpless later when she'd wanted nothing more than to find some way to ease the unimaginable pain that she knew Spock had been going through from losing so much in the blink of an eye. She hadn't known what to do then and she didn't know what to do now.

Because if something didn't give soon, her captain was going to die in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Uhura had come with Kirk to the surface of Manto because the natives’ language was still giving their Universal Translator fits and he hadn't wanted to rely on patchy technology when he could take an expert with him. She'd jumped at the chance, even if it had meant extended time with her captain that she still sometimes thought of as the dumb hick asshole who'd hit on her once in a bar. She'd been disappointed that Spock hadn't come as part of the away team as well but it had been evaluated as a low-danger mission and he'd stayed on the Enterprise to run the ship in Kirk's absence.

It probably would've remained one if it hadn't been for the earthquake.

So she and Kirk were cut off from the rest of the team and their hosts, buried under rubble at some ancient, isolated temple that the Mantoans had insisted they visit. Somehow Uhura had survived the onslaught unscathed -- not somehow, she reminded herself, looking down at Kirk's pale, sweaty face. She had survived because Kirk had curled over her protectively, taking the brunt of the falling rocks and debris. And he hadn't done it without injury to himself, either.

With no recourse but to wait it out, Uhura hunkered down next to Kirk, making him as comfortable as possible. She wished she had a medical tricorder that might have better clued her in to the captain's injury but all she had to rely on was her eyes. He was pale, sweaty, breathing in short, rough pants; he was clammy and she had a bad feeling that there were internal injuries she couldn't begin to catalogue. Uhura was also pretty certain that shock had set in and it wasn't something she could do anything about stuck on the wrong side of a rock slide.

"Uhura..." came Kirk's low and raspy voice.

"Shut up, sir," she said, keeping all of her worry out of her voice as she arranged her jacket more snugly around his prone form. "You should save your strength and keep your mouth shut until help arrives."

Kirk tried to laugh but it turned into a ragged groan. "I think we both know I'll be _dead_ when help arrives."

Uhura took his face in her hands and forced his glazed eyes to meet her glare. "You are not dying on my watch, Kirk."

"I don't think either of us has much say in it, Lieutenant," he told her.

She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. "You're underestimating both of us if you really think that."

He managed a painful contortion of a smile. "That attitude," he said. "It's what I always liked about you."

Uhura didn't like the far-off look in his eyes or the resignation in his voice. "You're a stubborn jackass," she told him. "I don't like it but it's your best trait. I suggest you stick to it until help arrives."

So she didn't feel completely useless, Uhura focused on fiddling with her smashed communicator, trying to rig it so it could act as an emergency beacon. If they were lucky, someone might pick it up in time.

Unfortunately, they were running low on both.

"Uhura," Kirk said and it was barely a whisper. She set aside her comm and bent closer to his moving lips. "Do me a favor, will you?"

"What?" she asked.

"Tell Bones I'm sorry, okay?" he said, each breath more like a wheeze. He was shivering violently under the cover of their jackets spread over him and Uhura had the very foreign thought of wrapping her arms around him. "Sorry I dragged him out into space and I died on him. As friends go, it makes me pretty shitty."

" _You are not going to die_ ," she ground out. "Stop saying you are. I'm not going to tell Spock I lost the captain the first time I took him for a walk."

His eyes were half-mast and he was mumbling. "He'll forgive you," he promised. "Because he loves you. So don't worry 'bout that. I'm not exactly hard to replace."

"Kirk," she said, taking his hand. "Jim," she said, more softly.

"He'll probably be glad to get someone more logical, anyway." He paused for a long, rattling breath. "Tell him I'm sorry, too. That I wasn't the greatest captain. Or the best friend. I tried, though. God, I wanted it. I wanted..." His expression, already one of pain, spasmed into something even more heartbreaking. "Just...you'll take care of him, right? Since I won't be around. Spock needs somebody to make sure he doesn't do something stupid like try to pretend he doesn't have _feelings_..."

Uhura wasn't sure what it was exactly about the captain's rambling words -- maybe it was his face, or the hint of sadness in his fever-bright eyes or even the amount of feeling he could eject in the single word of _Spock_ but...she suddenly knew. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" she whispered.

Kirk flinched but not from his injuries, for once. "Don't tell him that," he mumbled. "No need to look pathetic after I'm dead."

"You are not going to die!" Uhura shouted. "Do you hear me, Jim Kirk? You are not going to die and if you do, I'll never forgive you."

The rest of Uhura's diatribe was cut off because she heard a great rumble from the collapsed floor above them and then, suddenly, there was light pouring in. "Spock!" she said when she noted the outline of his elegant ears against that light.

"What is your status, Lieutenant?" Spock called down.

"I'm fine," she said. "But the Captain..."

A few minutes later, Spock, McCoy and a few Security techs were down in the hole with them, McCoy ranting as he ran worried eyes over Kirk and began to pump him full of hypos. Uhura let herself have a brief second where she took Spock's hand and squeezed it between her own, immeasurably glad that everyone was alive.

A few _hours_ later and it was almost like it had never happened, except for the fact that the Captain was in sickbay recovering and Uhura couldn't get Kirk's last words out of her head. He'd all but confessed that he was in love with Spock when he didn't deny her accusation and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to deal with it. Like everything else that happened, it was adding up to a new picture of her old nemesis.

The thought that coming back to her was this: how would she have acted if she had been in Kirk's place? How would she have comported herself if she were in love with someone -- when had that even happened anyway? -- who didn't love her back? How would Uhura have treated Kirk if she was the one watching him and Spock be happy together? Because there had never been a glimmer of anything from Kirk, not about that. He might've ribbed her for her insubordinate tone or the use of her given name or anything else, but there'd never been a word spoken about her relationship with Spock, about all the questions she knew others gossiped about. He never batted an eye about it, outside of that first moment before they had taken the Narada, when he'd seen them kissing on the transporter pad.

The honest answer, which Uhura always tried to give herself, was that she didn't think she'd have borne her unrequited feelings as well as he had. There was a jealousy in her, a possessiveness that would've turned bitter quickly if she had been in Kirk's place. She could imagine the kind of spiteful things she'd want to say or do if she were him. That realization made her rethink her opinion of Jim Kirk and maybe admit something she'd known for a while but hadn't wanted to acknowledge: for all of arrogance and ego, there was a fundamental kindness in Kirk that a lot of people missed. She was glad that maybe she wasn't one of them anymore.

The next morning, she decided to go check on the captain, only to find that McCoy had been sweet-talked into releasing him back to his own quarters, no doubt softened by how close his friend had almost come to dying. So Uhura tracked him down there, watching as his blue eyes went wide and worried under the unruly fringe of his hair when he answered the chime. "I thought you'd be Bones," he admitted. "Did you need something, Lieutenant?"

"We need to talk," she said. "About what you said on the planet."

She was surprised when he closed his fingers around her wrist and tugged her inside. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Look," he began, shifting his weight nervously. "Whatever you're going to say, go ahead and say it but at least do it in private okay? No need to publically eviscerate me."

"Jim," she said, like she had on the planet, and it stunned him into silence. "I'm not going to eviscerate you, publically or otherwise. I'm not angry."

"Really?" he asked, clearly dubious.

She shook her head. "No. I'm...sorry, mostly. No one deserves to be pain because they love someone they can't have. Not even you."

"Thanks," he said.

"I didn't mean it like that," she sighed. "You've been respectful and I would've never known if not for what happened." She took a deep breath. "Your secret's safe. I promise. No one else will never know, not from me."

He finally met her gaze and she could see the gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks," he said again, but the meaning was completely different.

"No problem, sir," she said, trying to smile. Before she could stop herself she reached out and took his hand, gave it a squeeze. "I can't say I don't understand why. He's pretty lovable once you get to know him."

"Yeah," Kirk said and for a moment it was all in his face and Uhura hurt for him again. "He is."

As she quietly left him to his thoughts, Uhura promised herself that she'd never underestimate Jim Kirk again.

**

(5. Chekov)

Pavel couldn't help the bounce in his step, even as he headed down one of the Enterprise's long corridors. After the day -- and successful mission -- that they had had, nothing could keep the smile off his face, anyway. They had, after all, saved both the civilization on Nibiru and Commander Spock. Even if the Vulcan had lectured the captain and the rest of the bridge crew for the rest of the shift about the dangers of violating the Prime Directive, it was still the most satisfactory outcome that had faced them just hours before.

Now the Enterprise had put many light-years between them and the fledging world they had saved and Pavel was off-duty. He was ready to relax and bask a little in the feeling of a job well-done, at least until the next mission brought another set of challenges. Because there would another mission with another set of challenges, Pavel knew; that was the pleasure and the pain of serving Captain Kirk. Pavel wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

It was late, by the ship's time, and most of the crew was at their duty posts or asleep. Pavel had plans to be there as well but he had left his padd in the rec room earlier that day. He was still working his way through an old Earth work about feuding mythological creatures -- Surmeki, it was called, a 21st century Russian masterpiece -- and he wanted to read a few more chapters before he went to bed. But that meant that he had to retrieve it from the empty rec room.

Every corridor he took was virtually empty, so Pavel was surprised when the faint sounds of voices met his ears. As he came closer to the rec room that was his destination, the voices grew louder -- and it became clear that one of those voices was raised in irritation.

That voice, Pavel realized quickly, belonged to the Captain.

Pavel came to a halt as Captain Kirk's angry words reached his ears. "...lecture again, Spock," he said. "You've been singing this same tune for a while and it's getting old."

"Regulations are not 'a tune,' Captain," the First Officer answered, not as wildly emotional as his Captain but certainly...annoyed, Pavel decided. "They are the foundation on which Starfleet and the Federation were built and are not for you to disregard as you see fit."

Pavel knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping but he couldn't help himself from drawing just a little bit closer to the open door of the rec room. Just like the halls, it was empty, except for the quarrelling command team and he could barely make out the abandoned chess game between them. It looked as if they had sought relaxation and instead had found themselves continuing the fight from earlier.

"This wasn't about the rules, Spock, it was not you not dying," Kirk said. "Leaving you there to die would've been wrong."

"Violation of the Prime Directive is wrong," Spock returned. "There is a reason it is known specifically by its primacy, in fact."

"Nothing is more prime than your life," Kirk snapped. "Nothing. Don't you understand that?"

There was a pause. "I understand that you are a human and prone to illogical sentimentality," Spock finally said. "There is no place for that in critical decision-making."

"Oh my god," Kirk said and Pavel could imagine the look on his face, even if he couldn't see it from where he huddled just outside the door. "Starfleet is made up mostly of humans," he reminded his first officer. "You can't object to me based on the fact that I have feelings! Everyone has feelings."

"Vulcans do not have feelings," Spock said. There was a thread of snippiness in his tone that Pavel thought belied his statement.

"Bullshit," Kirk said immediately and silently Pavel cheered. "I've seen you emotionally compromised, Commander, so don't try to pull that on me."

"Using the worst days of my life against me to win a useless argument in no way convinces me of the superiority of your critical thinking skills," Spock shot back. "Nor did it invoke an emotional response, as you might've been planning."

"I wasn't planning anything!" Kirk was definitely yelling now, illustrating just how emotional and human he was. "God damn it, Spock, this isn't a debate. I'm just trying to make you _understand_."

"What?" the Vulcan asked.

"I couldn't leave you to die," Kirk said. "I couldn't do it, okay? I'm sorry."

The silence that followed was deafening in its tension; even Pavel felt it in the pit of his stomach. "The loss of crew is unfortunate but inevitable, Captain," Spock said, although his voice was softer than it had been. "To act as if it's not is -- illogical."

"Illogical. Right." Kirk laughed, but it was harsh and ragged. "Bones said that if our positions were reversed, you would've left me to die, Spock." Kirk's voice was quiet and pained. It hurt Pavel to hear it. "Was he right?"

"I..." Pavel waited, as he assumed Kirk did, for the Vulcan to speak. "The needs of the many must outweigh the few," Spock said. "Starfleet directives must be followed on every mission."

"Of course," the Captain muttered, clearly hurt by Spock's words. "You know, I think you're wrong by the way. Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the few but sometimes? Sometimes, the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many, Spock."

"There is no logic in that statement," Spock said.

"That was never in question." Kirk sighed and it was a heavy sound. "I can't do this anymore tonight, Spock. Just...go to Uhura. I'm sure she's waiting for you."

"Very well," Spock said, which gave Pavel a chance to scramble around the corner so that he could watch the first officer head off toward Lieutenant Uhura's quarters without getting caught at eavesdropping. He waited until the Vulcan had cleared the corridor before he crept back toward the rec room. He figured it would be safe enough to interrupt the Captain now that he was alone.

That was, until he heard Kirk muttering to himself. "I'm an idiot," the Captain said aloud to the empty room -- and to Pavel, even if he didn't know. "Who's apparently in love with a robot. _Great_."

Pavel's eyes went wide and he rethought his earlier decision. Instead, he hurried away from the rec room, his padd forgotten in his haste to never let the Captain know the confession he had just overheard.

**  
(+1 Spock)

Despite the years that Spock had spent around humans, Spock often felt like he was no closer to understanding them than he had been the first day he had set foot on their planet. Between his own time at the academy and his work as an instructor there, he had had ample time to observe and analyze humans and their illogical emotionalism, had had a chance to interact with a variety of humans from diverse cultures and backgrounds. But Spock had only come away from with one firm conclusion about humans: they were nothing if not hopelessly confusing.

There was one human who was very singularly human in this regard and that human was James T. Kirk. From dishonest cadet to savior of the world and back again, Captain Kirk defied almost all of Spock's attempts to categorize him -- and Spock had made quite a study of him in the year they served together on the Enterprise. Somehow, Spock had concluded that Kirk was both anything and everything, all at the same time. That confusion had interested Spock, caught his attention; had made him look more closely than he might've otherwise. Spock liked to solve mysteries and Kirk had certainly presented as one, from the first moment he had stood up and challenged Spock in front of the Academy.

He might've taken a lot of time to think about James Kirk, but he hadn't spent much contemplation on what it meant that he spent so much time engrossed in the complexities of his captain.

Then James Kirk died and Spock had nothing but time -- two never-ending weeks of it -- which to devote to the reasons for his actions, his thoughts. The conclusion he reached was startling, even if painfully obvious in hindsight. As someone as intelligent as Spock should've recognized the signs of attraction long before he'd been forced to sit at his captain's bedside and wait to see if he regained consciousness. But that wasn't the only thing that startled Spock. There was also what _everyone else_ seemed to imply about the captain's feelings for him that took him by surprise.

The first was McCoy who, with the contrariness that seemed to be at the core of his nature, berated Spock for coming to visit the captain as much as he did when he was unable to stop by. Then there was Nyota, with her dark, knowing eyes and tight mouth, who quietly whispered goodbyes to their romantic relationship that Spock could not even begin to refute. There was Mr. Scott who had called him to Jim's side as he died and who urged Spock to understand how _fond_ the Captain was of him. There was even Spock's elder counterpart who made vague references to the richness of the word _friendship_ in the Vulcan tongue and gently reminded Spock that James Kirk was smarter than he often gave him credit.

Spock might've found Jim to be mysterious, contradictory and far too elusive for decisive analysis but the rest of the crew were of a steadier disposition and they all seemed to be in agreement about Jim's feelings for Spock, adding up to a single revelation: perhaps the elder Spock was right and _friendship_ was only the first of many words to describe how Jim felt Spock, much like how Spock felt about Jim.

 

So Spock sat at Jim's side and thought about the chance, the slim hope of it; and, once Jim opened his eyes, he thought about what he planned to do with what he thought he'd come to understand.

Spock didn't rush toward any kind of confrontation. At first, he was simply glad to have Jim there, awake, walking; the rush of gratitude Spock felt at simply seeing Jim lasted for weeks after his captain had first opened his eyes. But slowly, the question began to take over Spock's mind once again, growing ever more looming with each smile Jim awarded him, with each look that seemed to speak of something deeper than their friendly words. Then, one day, it was too much, the not-knowing and Spock knew he had to say something, even if all he'd win would be the destruction of his fragile hope.

While the Captain had improved remarkably, Dr. McCoy was still protective and preferred if Jim did not "hare off" on his own, which meant that Jim often asked Spock to accompany him when he needed a respite from confinement within his apartment. Today, Jim had requested that they head toward a small park and Spock had agreed, setting his pace to match the Captain's slower-than-usual gait. Despite the small signs of his ordeal that still lingered, Jim looked relaxed as he walked at Spock's side, even if his casual clothing hung a little too loosely on his frame. His eyes were clear and sharp beneath his tousled hair and he smiled every time he caught Spock glancing his way.

Finally, Jim paused, leaning up against rails that cordoned off one part of the park from another. He sighed, looking across the manicured field. He glanced at Spock. "You seem like someone with something on his mind, Commander," Jim said.

"I apologize," Spock said. "I did not intend to seem uninterested in what you were saying."

Jim waved a hand, as if to dismiss Spock's words. "Do you need to talk?" he asked.

"Actually," Spock admitted, steeling himself. "I would like to speak to you about a conclusion I've reached."

Jim's expression flickered but Spock could not understand the emotion that crossed it. "I had a feeling," he said, eyes still locked on the landscape spread before him. "As a human, I get a lot of those."

"I'm aware," Spock said. "In fact, what I would like to speak to you about has to do with...feelings. Yours, in fact."

He did not miss how Jim tensed, then forced himself to relax. Spock also noticed a flush starting to rise on Jim's skin. "I kind of figured that, too. I wasn't exactly subtle back before I...died."

It was Spock's turn to wince, both at the bald statement and his own memory: Jim, pain in his eyes, offering his hand even when the glass made touch futile. "I am not sure what you mean," he said. "I was referring more to what our associates have told me."

Jim frowned. "What who told you?"

"Our colleagues," Spock explained. "The ones you call friends. They have..." Spock searched for the words. "While you were indisposed, they all seem to imply that you felt a level of regard for me beyond the friendship we spoke of."

"All?" Jim asked, his voice rising a little. "Who all?"

"McCoy," Spock said and Jim nodded. "Mr. Scott."

"Yeah," Jim said with a laugh. He rubbed at his forehead with his head, bowing his head a little to avoid Spock's gaze.

"Nyota and Sulu also expressed opinions that seemed to confirm their words," Spock continued.

" _Sulu_?" Jim asked, shaking his head. "Christ."

"And even my older counterpart," Spock said.

"That meddling old bastard," Jim said, even if his voice was full of affection. Spock realized he was uncomfortable with how much Jim's voice betrayed his fondness for the older Spock. Jim finally looked up and met Spock's eyes, even when the uncertainty he felt was easy to discern. "With so much evidence on your side, Mr. Spock, I wonder at what you'd like me to add."

"I would like to know the truth, which you are able uniquely able to offer in this situation," he said. "I would like to know if they have misled me."

Jim was quiet for two point three minutes before he spoke. "No," he said, voice soft and hushed. "They have not misled you."

"I see."

Jim looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hope this won't be a problem," he said. "I don't think it was a problem before."

"I would not consider it a problem, no," Spock began, but Jim cut him off.

"We can just work on the friend thing, right?" he said. "Because I can be good with that."

"I fail to see why we would do that," Spock frowned. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Jim, lay his fingers against the pale, golden skin of his forearm or even his throat, where his T-shirt dipped, but Jim's protective stance and obvious distress kept him from doing so. He wondered if he'd misunderstood something. "When we could..." Spock let himself take a step closer, until he could feel the heat from Jim's body, could pick up the slightest tumble of feelings from their proximity. There was sadness and embarrassment but most of it, Spock sensed confusion. "Jim," he began. "I have been remiss. I should have explained that you are not the only one who feels a level of regard beyond that of friendship."

"Oh." The dawn of understanding in Jim's face was a bright as any daybreak, especially once it reached his mouth which curved up into a smile. "But what about Uhura?"

"Our relationship ended before you regained consciousness," he explained. "We both understood why."

"I..." Jim reached out but then curled his fingers together and dropped his hands. "I want to touch you," he said. "But I know how Vulcans are about public displays of...well, anything. I don't want..."

His words ended Spock surprised him by reaching for him, his hands on Jim's arms, bridging the last bit of distance between them. "Jim," he said again, relishing the word on his lips and the pleasure it elicited from the man in question. "Four point six weeks ago, I watched you die and I could not touch you. I find few objections sufficient to stop me when I now _can_."

Suddenly, Jim's arms were reaching for him. "Glad to hear it," he said. "I plan to do this at least once on the bridge then."

Spock started to ask what he meant when Jim leaned forward and kissed him, mouth to mouth, stealing his breath, his words and his desire for either of them when the exchange was so sweet. He also found that any objection he might've had against Jim's plan were distant in his mind as long as he had Jim in his arms.

The only thing logic told him to do was hold on tighter.

So he did.

 

(The End.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a Walt Whitman poem of the same name. In my head, this is kind of a companion piece to the last K/S fic I posted (Long there in vigil I stood) but they aren't necessarily linked beyond my own head canon. Dedicated to blessedprime, who loves her some oblivious boys. :)


End file.
